Can you fix the broken
by Sui P. Lestrange
Summary: AU. He was at the end of his rope, quite literally so, when they found him. A 72 hour suicide-watch and a strong advice of counseling were given. It's how they met actually. "So you're the one who'll save me?" She grimaced, "I'm no savior Mr. Jones. I'm just not afraid of the dark."
1. Chapter 1

**Note:** Hello everyone. I used to have stories on this account but I found them to be... horrible so I deleted them all and I'm starting with a clean slate. I'm currently obsessed with Once Upon a Time and this will be my first fanfiction for this show. I hope you like it.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Once Upon a Time or any of its characters.

* * *

**Summary**: He was at the end of his rope, quite literally so, when they found him. A 72 hour suicide-watch and a strong advice of counseling were given. It's how they met actually.  
"So you're the one who'll save me?" She grimaced, "I'm no savior Mr. Jones. I'm just not afraid of the dark."

* * *

**Chapter 01.**

"Milah!"

He screamed, his eyes opening wide with fear. He sat up straight, panting, with a heartbeat racing at the pace of a high-speed train. His body was covered in a sheen of cold sweat that he had worked up in his state of dreaming, making his shirt stick to his skin, his hair clinging in strands to his forehead. Every night, the same damn terrifying dream. No not a dream, a nightmare.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the images. He should have pushed for morphine or at least half a bottle of sleeping pills when they discharged him. But then again it might aid his suicidal tendencies. Even if he had asked, the chance of actually getting them had been slim to none.

Rubbing his hand over his eye, another method to erase the images, the feelings, of course failed as well. He checked the clock radio on the nightstand and groaned when the red numbers indicated it was only a few minutes past 3 A.M. Sighing he got out of bed, steadying himself against the wall before he slowly moved to the bathroom. Sudden movements, such as changing altitude, still made him dizzy. He pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor, straining his neck in the process. Yes… pain, physical pain, nothing better to change his train of thought.

He ignored the mirror as he passed it. In a fit he had touched it with his fist and he couldn't be bothered to replace it. It showed nothing more than a distorted figure. It matched his very soul and though it wasn't something he could gaze at endlessly, he had kept it. He couldn't be bothered to fix it or dump it out with the trash because it showed him how he had been ever since she'd been gone.

He shimmied out of his pants, leaving it forgotten on the floor in his wake as he positioned himself underneath the showerhead and turned on the water. A spray of heath cleansed his body, chased away the clammy feeling his nightmare had left him with. He could feel the water hit his shoulder blades, cascade down his body, and erasing the tension. Nevermind that the water was borderline scalding, leaving a reddish hue in its wake, it gave him relief. Because physical pain… it's what really did the trick when he needed to clear his head.

The doctors had said that the stiffness in his neck was normal. Normal for someone who had survived an attempted suicide-by-hanging.  
He was at the end of his rope when they found him, quite literally so. Still jerking around from having only just taken the leap and Smee and Jefferson had done everything they possibly could while calling 911 and waiting for their arrival.

"_911, what's your emergency?"  
"My friend just hung himself, what the hell do you think?!"_

Jefferson had never been a cool-headed person, especially not after his wife passed away. Smee had taken over though, explaining the situation, meanwhile telling Jefferson to try certain tricks to find out whether their friend was still alive, and giving the address. 4 hours later the doctors told them that Killian would live. He'd have a sore neck and wouldn't be able to fully use his vocal chords for a few days but Mr. Jones was an extremely lucky guy for having two friends showing up when they did.  
Killian hadn't agreed. He had cursed them in what little voice capacity he had left. Cursed them for intervening, not letting him leave. Not letting him go to his sweet, dead Milah. But while incapable of voicing the –no doubt- colourful curses that sprang to mind, he did have a good pitching arm. Throwing at random every loose object he could find at his two friends.

Dressed in sweatpants he made his way to the kitchen, passing the rope he'd so deftly hung from the ceiling of his living room only a week ago – he had refused to take it away - and started his preparations to make coffee. He could definitely use a cup.

He sighed as his thoughts strayed to that day again. The day his happiness was taken away from him. It shouldn't surprise him; his mind hadn't given him rest from that horrid day for the past 5 years, why should he expect it to be different after his failed attempt at rest? He felt a sharp pain in his left hand, making him drop the cup he was holding in his right. He carefully rubbed the stump. Phantom pains… Even after 5 years he can still feel it throbbing. Not always of course, but the occasional feeling would leave him with more than the daily dose of grief he had signed up for. He sighed as he looked at the broken cup on the kitchen floor. It was going to be one of those days…

"Screw it." he murmured, forgetting all about the coffee he was planning on making and reached for the half empty bottle of rum he'd left on the kitchen counter the day before.

* * *

"Damn it Jones, Wake up!" a voice yelled at him, shaking him violently and pulling him away from the empty darkness. That very comforting darkness that hadn't been so easy to find in these past few months. His slight stirring had apparently gone unnoticed as he quickly received a slap in the face. His eyes shot open, adjusting to the light that was now streaming through the windows, indicating that time had indeed moved forward. He hadn't been too sure about that lately.

He glared when Jefferson's face came into focus. "Bloody Hell Jefferson, a simple 'Oi get up' would have sufficed."

"Jeezes Jones, you can't just pass out on the floor like that. You scared me half to death." He cursed and sat down on the bar stool. It was something of a joke when Killian first bought it. The apartment had a half-open kitchen, and because the sink was at the wall it resembled a bit of a bar-atmosphere; so he bought some bar stools. He'd be kind of like a bartender. Also it saved space, no need to buy an actual kitchen table when you could eat at it as well, and it left more room for the pool table he'd always said he'd wanted when he was still a kid. Nothing beats owning a pool table.

He looked at his friend and saw his hands shaking a bit. Which wasn't normal, Jefferson had a steady hand given his profession. "I got up at 3 A.M. Jefferson. I just fell asleep again."

"On the freaking floor with the help of a bottle of rum." Jefferson added in aggravation, raking a hand through his hair. "I know you said it was a lapse in judgement but the matter of the fact is that you tried to kill yourself a week ago. Lapse in judgement or not… You can't pull this shit anymore without scaring the crap out of people thinking you did it again."

"For your information mate…" Killian started annoyed as he got up from his position on the floor, his back protesting after its rendezvous with the floor. "It was half a bottle. And what are you implying?"

Jefferson eyed him sceptically. The man hadn't been the same since he found Killian hanging. After his wife's so-called suicide Jefferson hadn't been able to deal well with losses. If he would've lost his friend… he mentally shook his head to erase his train of thought. He wouldn't go there. The point is that Killian hadn't died that day. The point is that he'd be okay in the long haul and Jefferson wouldn't have to explain to his daughter why another person in their lives took a permanent departure.

"I made you an appointment with a therapist." Killian groaned while rolling his eyes and knocked his head against the cool surface of the wall.  
"I'm not going back to that Hopper guy. The bloke is a bleeding sap, I don't care how many diplomas he has."

"It's not Doctor Hopper. I called him… he said he knew a therapist that would better suit your… state of mind. Look here's the address. I have to go and pick Grace up from school. At least consider the idea." Jefferson said after he left his seat to put the piece of paper on the pool table. He put his hand on Killian's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. It was enough to make Killian roll his eyes once more. Ever since the attempt Jefferson, even though he was still a guy's guy, was giving those reassuring squeezes. "Seriously Jefferson, none of that touchy-feely self-help crap."

Killian couldn't figure out if it bothered him because it just wasn't Jefferson-like or because it showed him that someone cared. He shouldn't hold it against him; he knew that his attempt had brought back memories of his wife Alice. And the man had gone through hell and back because of that.  
Maybe he should have thought of that... Killian wondered. But suicide is a selfish act. _A selfish act for a selfish man. Bloody hell…. _  
"Fine… fine. I'll look into it." He uttered finally before Jefferson could disappear behind a closed door. He nodded and closed the door behind him.

Killian sighed and took the piece of paper into his hand. He sighed as he took in the time on the microwave.

"Time to get ready then." He had an appointment to attend to.

* * *

With much reluctance and apparently a less enjoyable after-taste of his encounter with the bottle of rum at 4 in the morning he had followed Jefferson's advice and made his way to the shrink. Perhaps it was some sort of guilt he felt toward Jefferson that had made him accept in the end. Just one appointment, he said to himself. At least he could have said he tried. It would certainly get Jefferson of his back.

When he entered the waiting room he found one of the chairs already occupied by a rather gorgeous blonde. He moved to sit two chairs away from her, she nodded at him when he passed her. Being a gentleman he nodded back. It is only polite.

Sitting down he rubbed his hands over his jeans, 5 minutes before he had to go in and there was another person waiting before him. He was annoyed, he would be stuck in that waiting room all day, he could feel it.

He glanced around, the room was sober, safe for a plant that he was pretty sure was a fake, a few carefully picked out abstract paintings adored the wall. He looked at the blonde.

He never was ignorant to beauty when he saw it. And there, in that chair, was a fine example of it. Her hair was donned in a high ponytail, black rimmed glasses perched on her nose and she was softly chewing on her bottom lip as she read an article in the magazine she was holding. Her left foot was softly bouncing up and down as it dangled over her right leg.

Despite her attempt at comfort she didn't seem at ease in this environment, he felt it difficult not to chuckle. _You and me both, lass._

She suddenly closed the magazine and tossed it on the table in front of her and took note of the time from her cell phone.

"Running late?" Killian spoke up, he still held a rasp in his voice, but according to Whale the girl at the diner loved it. She looked at him and nodded, "Yes."  
"Well if this bloke keeps us hanging for much longer, we can always go find comfort in a glass or two, wouldn't you say." He said, with a subtle movement of his brows and a sly smile adorning his lips.

Was he actually flirting?

Before she could say anything though they heard the patter of footsteps and the door opened. She stood up, turned to him, "This will only take a few minutes."

When the door fully opened Killian was surprised to see a young boy with a goofy smile on his face exit the room.  
"Alright, all done. You get three tries." He said and Emma smiled.  
"Per object or three for three."

The boy seemed to mull it over, "Three for three. You are welcome to guess as well sir." He said when he noticed Killian in the other chair.  
"It's his first visit Kid." She replied before he could get a word in over his confusion. "Maybe another time."

Killian frowned. How did she know this was his first visit? Was his reluctance of being here that obvious?

"Let's see…The swan again Kid, really?"  
"You didn't even look!" he said annoyed. Killian was waiting for him to stomp his foot in annoyance as he took in the entire scene.

"Alright I'll look." She said and glanced at the room before turning back to the eager boy. "The swan, the fairy tale book and my keys. Which should be in your pocket. Come on."

"How do you do that?!" he exclaimed, a mixture between annoyance and wonder.  
"I'll tell you another time; Now off to Granny's."

He gave her the keys and quickly engulfed her in a hug. Killian noticed how she tensed at the gesture.

"Bye Emma. Bye mister!" the kid said and with his backpack slung over his shoulder exited the waiting room.

"Mr. Jones, Sorry for the delay, I hope you didn't set your heart on those drinks. You may come in now."

* * *

"So you are the one that's going to save me?" he asked and he closed the door behind him as he entered her office. He heard her chuckle as she messed around with some things. Probably the ones the kid had disorganized.

"God no. But if it's saving you want, there's a church not 2 blocks from here." He didn't know whether to be amused by this or just heavily confused. What use was therapy if not for saving the ones in need of?

"I'll pass on that, thanks."

"Please sit." She said as she took place in the chair across from the one she appointed to him.  
"So, I understand you tried to decorate your living room." She said before his behind even touched the fabric of the chair. His eyes immediately moved to her. Her facial expression was one of those that stated 'strictly business'. She offered him a quirked eyebrow though, as if expecting an answer.

"Subtlety seems lost on you lass." He said, licking his suddenly dry lips, "or tact."

"I'm sorry. If you want the sensitive soul-searching I'd recommend returning to Doctor Hopper. But the way I see it…" she readjusted her seating position. "You don't want the white walls and the 'how does that make you feel' package. If you weren't feeling like the crappiest man on earth you wouldn't have attempted that little stunt in the first place."

He blinked, well this certainly was a much livelier approach than the one Doctor Hopper had used. Her honesty was rather refreshing in contrast to the carefully placed words he had been hearing for the past 5 years – and which had been more frequent after his suicide attempt. He was certain though, that this kind of honesty would backfire in the long haul, but right now… Right now he was relishing in it.

"Quite perceptive aren't you."

"Well it is my job Mr. Jones." She looked him over. As if trying to see his deepest and darkest secrets. He wanted to snort. _Good luck with that._ He heard her sigh and she removed her glasses. Did he actually snort out loud?

"Look Mr. Jones. I'm not like Doctor Hopper. I'm not one into forcing people to talk about their experiences; If you want to talk about it, you talk about it and I'll be here to listen. And if you don't… well then you don't."

"Then pray tell, what is the point of all this then?" he asked, genuinely intrigued it seemed.

"I believe that a fixed point can be enough to start the so-called 'Healing Process'. Forcing a person to open up about something he has clearly kept hidden in the confines of his mind often has a reversed effect. One goes to therapy to get over walls, not to stack them higher."

She chewed her bottom lip again, an action that did not go by unnoticed by Killian. Subconsciously or not, the woman knew how to keep his attention focused on her lips, which both terrified and fascinated him.

"Look, I have a proposition for you." She said and leaned forward in her chair. "We'll meet twice a week, one hour sessions. If you can't make it I expect a call at least 2 hours before hand. Now, Doctor Hopper told me that you actually have to attend these sessions as part of punishment for attacking the medical staff."

"I didn't attack them. They got in the way while I was hurling a pitcher at my friends." He explained which earned him an amused smile on her part.

"Still it is enough reason to put you on a mandatory therapy, sure only 6 hours but knowing this I'd rethink the whole 'quitting while ahead' routine. Also…" she said and looked him straight in the eyes. They were a nice shade of green, he noticed. "I don't tolerate lies. Lying to get out of these sessions is false progress. I won't have any of it. So… if you can find these terms agreeable I'm sure we'll get along quite nicely."

He looked her over and couldn't help the grin that spread on his face.

"Quite passionate, Swan."

And that… was basically how he found himself spending two hours a week in the company of miss Emma Swan.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN**: Hello dearies. Time for chapter 2. Because of my hectic schedule this story will probably have an update once every two weeks.

Also the main song inspiring this story is Can You feel my heart by Bring me the Horizon. I don't have a beta at the moment, so if anyone is willing to beta, I'd be ever so happy. Enjoy

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Once Upon a Time or its characters.

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** Chapter 2**

* * *

It was cold out. She shivered slightly and rubbed her hands over her arms. Of course she had forgotten her coat. She cursed herself. "Smartest move of the damn day, Emma."

When she had first stepped out of her building she had not minded. In fact it had been wonderful to feel the cold air around her because her office had become too small, too stifling. So with a hurry she had taken off, needing to breathe, but of course… without her coat.

She thought she was able to handle anything life thought to throw at her. Because of the life she'd had. Apparently she was mistaken. And once again because of the kid.

When Henry had come knocking at her door six months ago and introduced himself as her son she'd been surprised, took a few deep breaths and offered him something to drink before driving him back to his adoptive mother. Who was apparently unaware of her son ever even having left his room. To say that she was less than pleased had been an understatement. It wasn't hard to imagine how she would have reacted if they had actually explained to Mrs. Mills that her son had snuck out to find his biological mother, instead of 'the capable psychologist' that would help him deal with 'recent, unpleasant affairs'.

Finding Mrs. Mills at her office the next day hadn't surprised Emma in the least, in fact she had anticipated it, and it had nothing to do with booking an appointment for little Henry Mills.

But today... Today was something she- albeit could have expected- wasn't prepared for.

He'd called her **mom**, gave her a rather strong hug and skipped out of her office as if he'd just discovered that he'd won a golden ticket and thus a trip to the Chocolate Factory.

She was a mom now. And to be honest, that was a more frightening thing to face than anything she'd had to go up against in her past. So, naturally, that was the time the walls of her office decided to move in on her. Finding her escape in the cold weather, aimlessly walking a few blocks, she tried to gain control of the sudden spectrum of feelings that made her want to throw up every last, nauseating one of them.

In fact, she had been so engrossed with the feeling that comes with the revelation of being a mom – as unconventionally as it was being applied now anyway- she hadn't even noticed that not only the wind had picked up, but clouds had gathered in the sky.

The downpour was quite the shocker, and it put a grimace on her face.

"Really?" she deadpanned. Today was not her day.

She took in her surroundings in search for a place to shelter from the downpour and smiled when she saw where her feet had taken her.

"_The Snuggly Duckling._" As unconventional as bar names can go, was quite the contradiction. The bar had often dealt with this town's law enforcement but it was still a better place to go to than 'The Rabbit Hole'. The lighting was dim; the music… dependable on the day a pleasant background noise, but it was all in all a cozy pub with the occasional crappy client – hence the brush with the law.

Flynn, the owner and part-time bartender, was a good guy. She'd helped him out when two brothers nearly decapitated him when he tried to close their tab. After that she had been welcome to as many free drinks as she liked. It was a perk that her previous job had brought with her. Even when she stopped being a bail bondsman Flynn would still slip her the occasional free drink. With that thought in her mind, because like her coat, her purse had also been left behind, she hurried out of the rain and opened the doors. She sighed in contentment as she was met with that same dim-lighted bar she fell in love with a few years ago. It was a Tuesday and only 3 pm so naturally it wasn't at all crowded. Only four other people occupied the chairs. . Good, she thought to herself, easier access to the bar.

"Well, look at what the cat dragged in." Flynn spoke up when he noticed Emma sitting down at the bar. "More like the weather. Was this even in the forecast?"

She grumbled as she gathered her wet tresses in her hands and wrung them of the excessive water. Flynn gave her a disapproving look before sliding a shot glass in her direction.

"I'll clean it up." She said and downed the shot. Instantly feeling the alcohol burn its way through her, she felt the warmth spread through her, reviving her frozen limbs. A towel was tossed in her direction, again courtesy of Flynn who was pretty much the perfect bartender. He was gifted in the art of knowing what a person needed. A dream of a bartender indeed, and that judgement was only influenced for 30% by his insane looks; an unruly mop of brown hair and those grey-green eyes that never seem to lose their intensity.

"So what brings you here?" He asked. He knew what he could ask of her. She was in fact a very closed off person, small-chat had never been her forte, especially not when it was used as a warm-up for the invasion of her personal life.

"As you can see, a change in the weather." She said drily before gulping down another shot Flynn had already poured. "Could you get me a beer?"

"Do you really want one?" he asked, surprised that she doubted his serving choice. "If I had my wish I'd take at least three more. But I still have places to be and I can't really show up three sheets in the wind now can I?" she said, giving him a curt smile as he turned to fetch her beer.

* * *

She was nursing her second beer when a presence showed up beside her.

"Heya girly…" She blinked and glanced at the man next to her. She had been so absorbed in her own thoughts that she hadn't even noticed him. Taking him in… she realized why.

"Yeah… no." Emma wasn't superficial, but when a man reeking of alcohol, thinks he has a shot when she's sober, even if he was graced with appeal it would still be no. She busied her fingers with the label of her beer bottle, she had made great progress in pealing it away, littering the bar with the small pieces of paper.

"Don't be like that girly." The man persisted and out of the corner of her eye she saw him move his hand to her thigh. In a flash she had two of his fingers bend backwards which elected a yelp from his lips and alerted the other occupants.

"Now… I don't know, nor care how much alcohol you have decided to consume but when I say no…" she said and put more pressure on his fingers making him basically fall through his knees and a little push made him stumble backwards. "I suggest you leave me alone, before I get angry."

She turned back to her beer bottle, catching a glance of an amused Flynn. She might have said goodbye to the life where she had to fight her way through every obstacle but that did not mean she had forgotten all the ways to make people hurt.

She signalled Flynn for another beer when she saw his expression of amusement change to one of discomfort. The scuffle she heard behind her indicating that the man was rather stupidly persistent.

But before she could even turn around to face the intoxicated annoyance and really put her years of knowledge into practice she heard the man yelp again and hit the floor.  
"I do believe the lady said to bugger off…." She rolled her eyes as she recognized the voice.

"Ello Lass." Tempted to smile, but suppressing it she turned to her savior.

"Mr. Jones."

They had been seeing each other in their weekly session for 2 weeks now. 4 sessions in total, yet the man still had to utter a single word about his attempted suicide and it's reasons behind it. Emma had learned to be patient when it came to these matters. Some things just don't spill as well as soup. And she would wait until he was ready to talk. But when they had first met she had tried to get a read on him. Of course… that had proven to be difficult, yet she had acknowledged the hope that the man would at least mention something in relation to it.

She had been mistaken. So 4 sessions later the only thing she knew about him, was his name, his attempt and that he flirted whenever he felt that something would touch too close to home. It was a deflecting mechanism, one that had probably worked quite well over the years with other women. She was actually quite annoyed that he knew this bar, that he'd probably visit this bar quite frequently. This meant she had to find a new bar to drink at. A relation with a client should always be kept professional.

In the mean time he had taken a seat on the stool next to her and slightly turned to her. "Won't you buy me a drink?" he asked with a grin. His face was ridiculously handsome; she had noticed that from the beginning. But this had actually been the closest they'd ever been and it made her notice some details; the blue of his eyes was laced with silver, the small scar on his right cheek that was a bit darker on the side of his nose, and a little bald spot in his otherwise nicely groomed scruff.

Emma did not see harm in this observation, she always did enjoy the sight of a pretty thing.

"Now why would I do that?" she replied after her observing, sideway glance.

"Well I did just save your honour." He replied, nodding his head in the direction that the intoxicated man had stumbled.

"Well aren't you a hero…" she deadpanned and took another swig, the bored reaction made him smirk, "I could've handled that myself."

"Oh I don't doubt you could Swan. But it was the gentlemanly thing to do."

"So now you're a gentleman?" she nearly scoffed and her brow quirked in disbelief. As if to challenge him. And by the look of things, the man did love a challenge.

"My dear Swan, "he said while leaning forward, "I'm always a gentleman." He moved a bit closer, his breath tickling her cheek. "Unless asked otherwise, of course." He moved back with a wink.

She blinked twice at his proximity and the way his voice had dropped to a huskier tone. The smell of alcohol did not escape her. But that wasn't the thing that made her smirk and shake her head. She was amused, and considering the day she had… she was glad for that.

"Alright Captain Innuendo. Flynn… the savior of my honour is demanding a drink." "Now no need for resentment love." She rolled her eyes and brought her attention to her beer once more.

Flynn came towards them and slid a glass of – if her nose and eyes did not deceive her- straight rum and placed another beer bottle in front of her.  
"Always the chivalrous sod aren't you Killian?"

"Part of the charm Ryder. How's the wife?"  
"Visiting her parents before she bloats to the size of a whale – don't look at me like that Emma, that's a direct quote I'm using."

"You should've told me you're becoming a dad. Congratulations."

He smiled but shrugged none the less, "You really didn't seem to be in the mood". He stated which made her roll her eyes, she came to realize she had picked up that habit, and used it quite frequently, ever since meeting Killian Jones.

"Now that's just absolute bull." She answered, hoping the person next to her wouldn't be too keen on picking up on that little information. He was disturbingly observant.

"Hey Flynn." Some guys who'd entered the bar called for him and Flynn excused himself to fear his new costumers.

"So how do you know Mr. Ryder." Killian asked and she'd half the mind to ignore him. She had known the minute he sat down the conversation would slip into personal waters. Considering she wasn't in the role of therapist right now, he'd have every right to inquire about her life. Of course it was still her own choice whether or not she'd reply.

"I helped him out once. You?" He pressed the glass to his lips before glancing at her sideway, "I helped him out… once." And then he let the liquid touch his tongue. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes once more; she needed to stop doing that. When she had met Flynn he had just given up the need to add sins to his criminal chart. She had a few good ideas as to how Jones had helped out Flynn before. Sneaking another sideway glance she found that his glass was quickly returning to its original state – empty. It amazed her considering it was straight up rum and nowhere near happy hour.

The man had had some practice it seemed. And with the sideway glance she noticed – because of the different lighting- that he actually had bags underneath his eyes.

"Something interesting Swan?" she got caught.  
"Just wondering."

"About my devilishly handsome looks I reckon." The tone of his voice dropped back to the one he used when flirting. He knew she had noticed his tired appearance and he knew that whatever she had been wondering would hit close to the truth.

"How have you been sleeping lately?" If he had been surprised or annoyed by that question he didn't show. He smiled in amusement. "Why Swan, is that a proposal I hear?" he waggled his brows to add mischief to his expression.

Captain Innuendo indeed. He played the part well, especially when he wanted to get a reaction out of her. But that was all it was, a played part, with so many unknown, private layers underneath. She found herself eager to work her way to them.

"Actually, "she said in a small voice, fully turning to him her knee accidentally brushing his upper thigh. "I'm wondering whether you need to alcohol to sleep, or if you're just a recreational drunk."

His grin disappeared into a grim line and if his icy look could kill, he'd frozen her with his glare. She sighed, too bold a move Swan.

"Do I appear drunk to you Miss Swan?" There was a bite to his tone. She hadn't heard him like this before, so defensive. She sighed and got out of her chair, her wet jeans not cooperating in the slightest.

"Of course not. Look Mr. Jones, whether it is to help you fall asleep or to drown your demons, I don't care. But sooner or later your demons **will** learn how to swim."

With that she passed him and made way to the exit where Flynn materialized next to her, an umbrella in his hand. "It's still raining."

"Thanks Flynn. Hey could you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

She smiled in gratitude, "Make sure he gets home in one piece."

"Why Emma, you care?" an amused glint struck his eyes and a chuckle escaped her.

"Whatever gave you that preposterous idea?"

* * *

She was happy about the cancellation that came in today. It meant she could go home early today and because she was still reeling from Henry's little surprise she hadn't been able to keep her thoughts with her clients. Although she had to admit that a certain blue eyed annoyance wasn't a stranger to her thoughts either. Perhaps it had been a bit too bold when she had asked him about his coping mechanisms but she had learned first-hand how alcohol could be a refuge. But whatever one was trying to hide from, it would get to you in the end.

She shook her head. She shouldn't be bothered by it. And if he was, she would probably hear it in session the next day. If and when he would show up that is.

She closed the door behind her, making sure it was locked and turned to walk to her car. The beaten up yellow bug was, unfortunately, nearing its end. But she didn't have the heart to part from it. Before she could reach it though, she felt a hand on her shoulder. On instinct she grabbed the hand, twisted around and slammed the attacker to the wall.

"BLOODY HELL Swan!"  
"Mr. Jones?!" she released him instantly, taking a few steps back.

"Oh don't you Mr. Jones me lass, I'm not a bloody _Aqua_ song. What the hell was that?!"

She didn't know whether to laugh at his pained expression as he rubbed his wrist or just be annoyed with him and kicking his behind for scaring her like that. She opted for yelling at him.

"What the hell were you thinking?"  
He looked at her as if she's sprouted two heads. "This is my fault?" She should have gone with the ass-kicking.

"Of course you idiot; you don't just grab an unsuspecting person in the middle of the damn street."

He moved forward, to cuss at her no doubt, but he staggered and she had mere seconds to brace herself and hold him up to keep him from falling.

"Christ, you smell like a distillery. I'm going to kill Flynn."

"Yes what was the idea behind the babysitter anyways? "He said struggling out of her grip to stand on his own. "I'm perfectly fine." "Yet the slur in your words would suggest otherwise."

He lost his balance again, and reached out the first object he could find, to steady himself. What he didn't expect was the rather strong right hook to his jaw.

"Bloody hell!"

"I don't care how drunk you are. You keep your hand to yourself." She seethed, embarrassingly rubbing the boob where his hand had put a rather hard pressure. At the same time he leered at her while rubbing his cheek. The woman had a mean right hook.

"Where's your phone?"

"I don't have one."

He noticed an exasperated look on her face, "How can you not have a phone? EVERYONE has one."  
"Well I don't."

She was about to scream in frustration. Being home early my ass.

"Just get in the car."


	3. Chapter 3

**Note:** Thank you so much for your kidn reviews and favs and follows. Like I said this story will have an update every two weeks or so. So thanks for sticking with me.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Once Upon a Time or any of its characters.

* * *

**Summary**: He was at the end of his rope, quite literally so, when they found him. A 72 hour suicide-watch and a strong advice of counseling were given. It's how they met actually.  
"So you're the one who'll save me?" She grimaced, "I'm no savior Mr. Jones. I'm just not afraid of the dark."

* * *

**Chapter 3**

When the shrieking sound of the alarm pierced the cloud of silence in the room, it- surprisingly- only lasted mere seconds before Emma turned it off. She moved her hand back to wipe away some stray tears that had escaped her eyes. At the same time cursing herself for it. It had been a while since memories of a past rather forgotten had invaded her dreams. She had become quite apt at avoiding them. But recent events had managed to bring them back to the surface. Her, cuffed to a bed, while giving birth to a son with whom she would never have parted if only the circumstances had been different.

She shook her head to rid her of the memories, her blond tresses falling in a mess around her, and she stubbornly suppressed the fresh wave of tears. A shower and a large dose of caffeine was what she needed.

Emma padded through her apartment, barefoot. It wasn't the picture perfect home you'd find in an Home Improvement Catalogue, or an Ikea. When she had moved in a year and a half ago she had told herself it wasn't much more than a temporary solution. She had never felt the need to settle, not even now. Blame it on the constant change of homes while in foster care. No, she actually felt better with the idea that she could up-and-move whenever she saw fit.

That didn't mean she lived out of suitcases and boxes , not at all, it meant she had invested in owning the necessities and held little value to the sentimental. Safe for the baby blanket her parents had left her when they dumped her on the side of the road, and no… she wasn't even going to go near that one with a ten foot pole today. Aggressively brushing through her hair made her change her train of thought, that and the loss of a few strands of hair that were yanked out with the action.

No, she would not dwell on it, not today.

She'd grown accustomed to the routine she'd started a month after moving in. Waking up, meeting Mary-Margaret for cinnamon hot chocolate at granny's, going to work.

When she arrived, Mary-Margaret was already waiting with two cups of hot chocolate with a hint … okay a rather strong hint… of cinnamon. They had met just because of it, ordering the same while at the counter, and neither ever having heard of anyone liking it that exact way. She was a schoolteacher, in fact, she was Henry's teacher. Always kind and smiling, but like any good teacher, stern when needed.

"I expected you earlier, so, sorry if it isn't your usual steaming hot anymore." She apologized, which made Emma shake her head. "No problem, I burned my tongue with coffee this morning, no need for a repeat."

Mary-Margaret smiled and sipped her hot chocolate, reveling in the taste. Something Emma had learned was her insatiable love for everything sweet, and her dislike for apples, something about choking on one when she was little.

"So… I have to ask, did he tell you?" Mary-Margaret asked, excitement evident in her voice as she awaited Emma's answer. Emma couldn't help but narrow her eyes. There was only one person in Emma's life to whom Mary-Margaret could refer and Emma didn't like it.

"What do you mean?"  
"Henry of course." She all but shouted. The woman was too chipper in the mornings. When realization dawned on her, Emma narrowed her eyes even further and Mary-Margaret's smile slipped off her lips.

"You pushed him didn't you? Damn it Mary-Margaret I told you to stay out of it."

"Emma…"

"No, you had no right." Emma concluded in a hushed voice, she was all but finished with this conversation. But discussing the matter at Granny's was pretty much accepting the rules and agreements of a paparazzi contract: Everything is public information.

"I thought it would make you happy." Mary-Margaret said softly. Reminding Emma of how desperate her friend was for a family of her own. And here she was, not accepting the fact that she was a mom.

"I have to get to work." Emma said, wanting to get out of there as fast as possible, the white lie would be forgiven. Her first client wouldn't be there for another hour or two. "We'll talk about this later." With that Emma stood up and left Granny's, leaving an untouched cinnamon hot chocolate cooling on the table in front of a deeply hurt schoolteacher.

Emma cursed herself. Of course Mary-Margaret would push Henry. Because she had lost her mother when she was Henry's age, she had always clung to the concept of family. She and David had been trying for a while now, but so far they had not yet received positive news. Emma could only imagine the frustration they both felt. Or how Mary-Margaret's heart was silently breaking when she would see Emma and Henry. A son wanting a mother, but a mother not ready to have a son. Emma would apologize later. Right now she was in dire need of another coffee, because this morning had already been too emotional for her taste.

* * *

When Henry showed up for his daily session after school he looked sad. Emma did not need to guess why but decided to ask anyway.

"What's wrong kid?"

"You shouldn't be angry at Miss Blanchard." He said and Emma sighed. "Kid…"

"No really. You shouldn't." he looked out of the window before his eyes turned back to her. "I've wanted to call you mom for a while now. But I didn't know if you would like it… so I asked Miss Blanchard… But I'll just call you Emma. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Henry's statement was loaded with sadness and disappointment. It made her heart bleed, knowing that his disappointment was her fault. He had a gift of pinpointing the underlying subtext though. It did make her uncomfortable. She wasn't used to being responsible for anyone but herself, she wasn't used to having anyone looking up to her. She would have smiled at the thought of how Henry's 'Gift' would become a pain in the ass when he'd hit puberty. But she didn't dare to. If Regina would change her mind about these visits she wouldn't even see him reach that stage, she wouldn't be able to see her son. Losing him twice would be the death of her she realized. And that scared her even more, that in such a short time, she was already completely attached to him. Considering Regina's reputation – basically going by the town's gossip – she was surprised it had lasted this long already.

"Okay Henry, we promised we would always tell each other the truth, yes?"

Henry, slightly smiling because she had called him Henry and that was pretty much a first since they had met, nodded in agreement.

"You surprised me. Also… because of your mom, because she doesn't really like me, I'm afraid that if you would start calling me mom as well… she won't let me see you anymore."

"But that's ridiculous."

"Henry… you are the only thing she has left. She lost her father and her husband, your … grandfather and your father. Even thinking she would be losing you… it would break her. I know you love her Henry, but you can't be selfish." Emma reasoned and he was just sitting there, taking it all in. Knowing him he would react in a responsible way, for an eleven year old boy, he was very mature.

"Can I still call you mom when it's just the two of us though?" He'd asked so innocently, how could she not smile at her son. She was quickly learning that, just like his father – curse his ass- he had a certain look that combined cuteness with desperation, and it would let him get away with murder.

"Okay... But never in front of your mother okay." She said and before she knew it he was rummaging in his blue and grey backpack and fished out two walkie-talkies.  
"We can use these if we want to talk. I always want to tell you so much but I always remember after our sessions "

Emma leaned back in her seat, strangely at ease as Henry was bursting with excitement over their new found agreement. She was nowhere near prepared for being a mother, being responsible for his well being. But if she could make him happy by talking through walkie-talkies, using code-names and maybe even trying a secret language – although she knew that that plan was D.O.A.- she would do just that.

* * *

Killian Jones was patiently waiting for Swan to finish up with her current session. Usually he was placed right after the kid, Henry, he had introduced himself a while back. It was a polite lad, always disappeared right after the little game him and Swan played. Killian still didn't get the point.

He knew he was early, but after his visit with Flynn left him with no indication of how he'd gotten the purple bruising on his face he decided the walk to Swan's office would be less waste of time than going back to his place only to immediately leave again.

After Flynn had put him in a cab he didn't remember much. But the throbbing in his cheek made it rather obvious that something had happened. Also the 'Get a Cellphone' written in elegant handwriting on the back of Emma Swan's business card made him assume that she was the last person who had seen him.

The door opened, two laughing people exiting. Killian noticed Swan had a nice laugh.

"Don't worry. You're doing great mom." Henry said and gave her a hug, much like that first time she tensed but kept quiet. Or so Killian thought, he stopped paying attention when he heard the kid call her mom.

Emma Swan… _a mother_. Well if that wasn't a revelation to shock him into silence, what was?

It was apparent that she hadn't noticed him when she came out, because when she turned to move back into her office, she froze at the sight of him.

"Jones." She tried to act unaffected by his sudden presence, but he could see the thoughts swirl in her head. _Had he heard?_

The smile that graced his face was laced with smugness as he got up and leisurely strolled to her. "So, let's get to it… Mom." And when she paled 3 shades – which in his honest opinion was thought to be impossible- he took place in his usual seat. If anything had come to light in these sessions it was this, he liked to rile her up.

Emma wasn't thinking – except for her arsenal of colorful curses she had enlisted while growing up- her mind was blank.

He knew. And going by that smug look of his – which she would gladly slap away if she could get away with it … again - she was certain that, him knowing this was not a good thing. She wasn't one to share personal details, let alone with clients. Then again…. up until the night before she had never treated one to a drink either.

"So… you treat your son." He spoke up when he felt the silence had dragged on long enough.

"He's not my…." She started, it was instinctive, a force of habit to deny she had a kid. To deny she was a mom. But he had heard it loud and clear from Henry's mouth. All because he was early. Why had he been so damned early, she wondered.  
"Yes." She answered and sat down, trying to gain control of her thoughts. Reminding herself where she was, and what she was doing. But most of all, reminding herself of who she had seated across from her.

"I didn't peg you as a mom."  
"I'm not." She replied, again in denial. Old habits die hard and she thought she knew enough about Killian Jones' nature by now, to know that his curious side - the one that needed to be sated just so he could use it to rile her later on- would want an answer.

"You just said you were." He said raising his brow. The woman was trying to confuse him, to make sure he dropped the matter. But she wouldn't shake him so easily, he thought. Therapist or not, if she wanted to pry in his life, he'd be damned if he wouldn't learn more about her.

She sighed, "You'd think you'd grant me the same courtesy as I grant my clients." He simply shrugged. "What can I say, you intrigue me Swan." Again he flashed her that mischievous smile that had probably charmed many a skirt off.

"Curiosity killed a cat." She warned.  
"I'm more of a dog person anyway." He easily offered, his facial expression serious yet his eyes twinkling like that of a kid excited for a present. She shook her head, just get it over with Emma.

"He is my son yes. But I gave him up for adoption when he was born. He found me 6 months ago."

"His adoptive parents must be thrilled." He replied dryly.  
"How's the cheek?" Emma asked instead. Wanting to change the subject, she was not open to discuss her further relation with Henry and his adoptive parent with Killian-'I won't talk about anything private '-Jones.

"A bit sore. I take it by your sudden gloating I can hold you responsible for it?"

It was her turn to smirk now, finally. "You deserved it."  
"Care to enlighten? The mind is a bit foggy with the details." She snorted, which earned her an eye roll.

"Well you did reek like a distillery. I'm surprised you were still standing."  
"I have a high tolerance." He boasted.  
"That I noticed. You know your way around Rum. I'm still waiting for that answer by the way." She was steering the topic of conversation away from her personal life and it made her extremely happy. Even when she saw the amusement fade from Killian's face and change to the usual passive look he wore whenever she approached a subject he did not want to discuss. Basically every time she inquired about something that did not relate to his saucy behavior.

"It is stupid to ask questions to which you already know the answer Swan." He replied and then gestured, with a slight nod, that it was her turn to answer.

She bit the inside of her cheek to refrain the triumphant smile that threatened to grace her lips, to break through. It was the most honest, personal thing he had said so far in their session together.

"You got handsy."

"I would never." He said in an outraged tone but the look on his face was as mischievous as ever.  
"Lie." She said and he feigned shock.  
"Miss Swan I'll have you know I am a perfect gentleman." He uttered in a playful matter, but he was rather serious about it. He saw her shake her head with a small smile on her lips, he did not miss the fact that it was the first one she showed ever since he found out she was Henry's mom. He would see to it that it wouldn't be the last. Perhaps it would stop her inquiries for a day.

"But, one must always take advantage when such situations present themselves of course." And then she did roll her eyes, leaving a pleased Killian staring at her. Oh two could play it like that, she thought.

"You had trouble keeping balance, so you grasped whatever was near. But I do tend to get the urge to hit someone when they grab my boobs without permission." She said, intently watching his reaction. She saw his eyes lower to aforementioned body parts.

"Up here Jones."

"Apologies Swan. Though I must admit I am sorry I wasn't sober enough to remember." He said cheekily.  
"Of course you are." She deadpanned, he really was cranking up the flirting. She was suspicious… what was he hiding today?

Her reaction brought another satisfied smile to his lips. The woman had zero tact but she did manage to entertain him during these sessions. He would not have put up with her otherwise. Especially not this long.

There was a comfortable silence after that. Killian occupied himself with trying to find the similarities between the kid and Swan. While Emma was thinking about whether or not, she would take advantage of his seemingly good mood. The question had been burning on her since session 2, but she had pushed it to the back of her mind when he appeared to be less cooperative than anticipated. The question, however, had returned when she had felt his prosthetic hand on her breast the other night.

"How did you lose it?" she asked, before she could regret it. Killian's eyes flashed straight to her face. No warning signs with her, Killian should've known that by now.

"An accident." He replied after a while.

"Lie." She immediately responded.  
"How would you know?"

"Told you." She said and tapped her nose, "I have a gift – most would describe it as – sniffing out the bullshit."

He raised his brow, seemingly disbelieving. "Alright, let's test that theory then, lass." Killian offered, hoping it would make her forget the question, or at least make the time pass by faster. She wouldn't be dragging an answer out of him when the session ended.

He noticed something akin to a spark in her eyes , once more it surprised him in a good way. Swan loved a challenge it seemed.

"Beer is better than rum."  
"Obvious lie."  
"I got attacked by a dog once."  
"Lie."  
"I quite fancy you."Emma eyed him and hesitated before she stated it was a lie.  
"You tolerate me at best." He snorted at that.

"Now you've had your fun. Care to tell me the truth?" she gave him a pointed stare before letting it drift to his prosthetic. He had unconsciously moved his good hand to it. It did the job… decent enough he thought. But it could never replace his real hand.

"Punishment for my crime." He said, using a tone that left her distraught. She observed him as he seemed to vanish into his past. The hand on his prosthetic slowly moving over it, testing it for feeling it seemed. But what troubled her was that she couldn't get a read on him, if he wasn't lying …

"But you don't see it that way."  
He didn't look at her but the saddest smile she'd seen on a person appeared on his lips, indicating he'd heard her.  
"No… no I don't." After all, he thought, it wasn't stealing when she came willingly.

They remained silent. Killian stuck in memories of Milah. How she had asked him to take her away. How the light left her eyes as she went limp in his arms. Emma noticed how his hand was firmly gripping the prosthetic, his knuckles turning white. He was in a dark place.

She quickly reached for her cellphone to check the time. She had sworn off watches ever since that day. No, she could not think of that right now. She pocketed her phone again.

"Mr Jones, it seems we're out of time." Emma spoke up, dragging him away from the painful memories. He wanted to curse her, hurt her for having him think about the past again. He was having such a good day.

"You know, I still don't understand it." He started as he stood up. Emma eyed him warily.  
"What's that."  
"That you of all people would give up your son." She froze at his words while under the gaze of his pretty blues. They'd turned stone cold.

"Careful Mr. Jones, you're threading on thin ice."  
"Too close for comfort Swan?" he leered, "Interesting it is though, you knowing firsthand the sense of abandonment and all."

"How…" it had escaped her by surprise and it sounded weak. If there was anything she wasn't, it was weak.  
"There's a certain look in one's eyes, and well… you are something of an open book lass."

Emma's throat went dry, completely caught off guard, but her glare intensified. He was angry with her for making him remember. He was attacking her because of it. But this… this was hitting too close to home, her sense of professionalism flying right out of the window.

"A look you recognize undoubtedly from staring at your own reflection I'm sure. But after which abandonment I wonder." She stood up and opened the door, he needed to leave. "**Good day** Mr. Jones."

He fixed her with an intense glare that matched her own before he walked out; she slammed the door behind him. The force reverberating throughout the office, just like his words reverberated in her mind.


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N**: hi guys, back again with a new chapter. Now I was asked to warn you when it would get a bit Feels-y. So hereby you are warned. This chapter will be about Killian's past so... well WARNING okay. Italics are flashbacks.

Hope you enjoy it. Let me know after.

**DISCLAIMER**: I don't own anything OUaT.

* * *

**Chapter 4.**

Killian Jones was furious. _How dare she…_ He wanted to march back into that office and demolish everything she owned, starting with that stupid Swan figurine which so prominently decorated her bookcase. He wanted to destroy something, anything really, if only it would numb the current feelings that woman had triggered within him. He'd been having such a good day.

The thought of **why** her words could rile him so much only fleetingly crossing his mind before the urge to imbibe a large amount of alcohol overruled his senses. He was aware of how low his supply was at his apartment so he made fast progress to The Snuggly Duckling.

Flynn's brows rose high when Killian barged in, with the ferocity of a bull in search of the red flag, he purposefully took angry strides to the bar.

"Jones." He greeted, this time forgoing the usual 'greeting with a drink' and just eyed the man in front of him.

"Rum. Leave the bottle." Killian seethed, he needed alcohol, he needed the burn, he needed oblivion.

"Jones…" Flynn started but he was fixed with a glare that made him swallow his words.  
"Rum. Leave the bottle." Killian repeated, "If you won't serve me I'll just go some place that will."

Flynn knew better than to disregard that threat. He had known Jones for a while now; this brought him right back to when he first met him, the menacing man with the brooding stare and force that could put a superhero to shame, but most of all, a man of his word. It was best to serve him instead of having him go some place where the bartender wouldn't blink twice if Killian would grab for his keys in the up and coming Rum-induced state.

He had no idea what had caused the sudden mood swing inside his friend but he didn't trust the way it had him reaching for that bottle.

Killian downed two fingers, the liquid leaving a burning path down his throat. The familiar feeling not even settled before he downed a larger quantity. Destroying himself would do just fine at the moment.

* * *

_Killian was playing pool, hoping to weasel some cash from his opponents. He was running low since the last job had been near a month ago and the rent was due. He wasn't sure that he could cheat the landlord another time._

_He was about to bag another 500 – you go big or you go home- when she walked in. He wasn't one to believe in love at first sight, or the comparison to angels like those romantic comedies always stuffed down your throat, but when she walked in…. _

_Her dark curls were framing her face and tumbling playfully down her back, her black trench coat hugging her curves quite nicely. But what struck him most from across the dimly lit room, were her eyes. So bright and blue__,__ or were they green? He wanted to keep his mind from wandering but she did carry the look and grace of an angel as she made her way to the bar._

_It was safe to say that he lost the game. His angel distracting him from his winning shot and thus he saw the much needed 500 dollar disappear right out of the window. Or in this case, a bottle of scotch for the victors._

_He looked at the woman once more. She'd taken a lonely seat and despite his loss he felt rather bold, bolder than he'd ever felt in his 23 years of life and walked up to her, taking the available seat right next to her and accusing her of making him lose the game. _

"_And what would you have me do about that?" she answered with a slight lift of the corners of her mouth._

"_For starters, you can buy me a drink."_

_Her eyes were evergreen. _

* * *

Killian winced and quickly downed another amount of rum when he escaped the reverie. He didn't want to remember today, he didn't want to remember period. Not even these happier times.

"Stupid Swan." He mumbled.  
"Got in a fight with Emma then?" Killian looked up to see Flynn still close to his place at the bar, his brow raised in question.

"You still here." Killian groaned, which earned him a chuckle. "It's a Monday and not anywhere near happy hour…" Killian just waved his hand in dismissal but Flynn stayed put.

"You know you have to forgive Emma. She doesn't have the greatest people skills." Flynn said in her defense but Killian wanted to hear nothing of it, instead he poured another glass of Rum, this time the liquid only a finger away from overflowing its small container, and he took no time in emptying it.

The burning sensation numbing pretty much everything, but the memories of Milah. The way she smiled when he told her a joke that wasn't even all that funny, or the way she looked so peaceful and content with her dark curls fanned out on his pillow. How her touch would make his worries disappear, how one of her soft sighs would mean that he was being an idiot but that she loved him all the same. How she would stare at him in his sleep only to have him wake up to one of her sketches, something she did when sleep evaded her but he would be dead to the world.

He swallowed the bile in his throat, one that wasn't caused by the rum but the sickening feeling of all those happy moments. He didn't want to remember, but he did, because of Swan.

"Whatever…. I'm done with her."

* * *

"_We are done." Milah said, removing her hand from his grip and turning to his door. But Killian wasn't good at his job for no reason. He glided beside her and with a speed she didn't know he possessed – although she should have known judging by how fast he could undress her – blocked her path and took hold of her wrist again. _

"_No we're not. You're going to explain to me what this is all about. You were happy an hour ago and now you're ready to storm out of here with your tail between your legs. What happened?"_

_He was worried for her and as she gazed into his pretty blues and saw so many emotions swirling in them she couldn't fight the tears. Killian wrapped her in his arms as she held on tightly. He kissed the top of her head while whispering reassuring nothings into her hair. What had happened to his fierce love? _

"_It'll be alright love." He said to which she ripped away from his embrace and glared at him with tear-filled eyes._

"_It won't be alright. It will never be alright. You know why we are over Killian? Because my husband found out!"_

_That was pretty much when Killian's world shattered, once more."You… you are married?"_

_Milah rolled her eyes. "No Killian I'm just making up something like this. I have a husband and he found out about us and if I don't go to him now he'll take away my son." _

"_You have a son… Why haven't you…"_

"_Oh please Killian, wake up and smell the roses. You are nothing… You are just a way to pass my time. Now get out of my way or do I have to physically hurt you as well?" Milah threatened. He knew it was empty but he let her pass him anyway. There was a kid involved. He was breaking up a marriage._

_Time passed, he didn't hear from Milah. 4 months of pure bliss, 4 months filled with laughs and secret kisses, soft caresses, screams, moans… he had fallen head over heels for her and she was married. He was just a toy to pass the time. And even though he loathed admitting it, it had broken him. _

_Smee was looking at Killian from his seat behind the computer. He sighed as he saw his friend stare ahead of him, anything but aware of what was happening around him. Smee sighed, he had warned him, warned him to not get involved with that woman and if he did to take care. He had known Milah's antics. Knew that once her husband returned, she would vanish from Killian's life. But it was the happiest Smee had seen his friend, who was he to deny… to prevent?_

"_Killian." He looked up, when his name was called, Flynn standing in front of him.  
"You up for it tonight?" _

_Smee smiled, Flynn had asked Killian to help him on a job, his last job before he left them. One last job before he became an honest man and married the love of his life._

"_Of course. I'll be right back." Killian said and stood up excusing himself and walking to the men's room. Killian sighed as he saw his reflection in the mirror. What had he been reduced to… because of her, a woman he had loved so dearly yet he didn't know her. He didn't know her at all. He splashed water in his face, after this job he would have a big meal, a warm shower and at least 10 hours of sleep.  
No more of this sad, pathetic mess, he told himself. He swore never to be as pathetic as he was when Liam left. And no woman would bring him there._

"Do you remember…" Killian started, automatically assuming Flynn was still near his side of the bar, "that job we did… that flower crown."  
Killian looked up at Flynn, his hand tracing the rim of his – once again- empty glass. Flynn was indeed still trying to busy himself at this side of the bar, it was a slow Monday indeed. Flynn smiled at the memory.

"How can I forget? You nearly got us thrown in jail."  
Killian chuckled, "Only because you didn't switch off the bloody alarm."  
"Because you blew our cover. Starting a fistfight with the night guard before we even got the crown, I still don't know what you were thinking."  
"That the guard was the only form of security, at least according to your scouting rapport." Killian answered and found himself smiling as he looked at his glass. They had made a good team. It was a shame that it was Flynn's last job. Jefferson wasn't as finely tuned when it came to improvisation, something that used to be crucial to Killian and Flynn's mode of operandi.

"So I missed the weight-trigger… really if you hadn't punched the guard I would've gotten to the alarm… we still got the crown and I was able to finish the job without having Ros bailing me out in the morning, it was a good last job." Flynn said, and Killian gave an amused laugh, remembering how Ros had been waiting for Flynn at the office. Smee a nervous wreck because they were taking longer than planned to get back with the item, and Ros – petite blonde that she is- was actually very intimidating when angry or annoyed.

"Smee was shitting himself when we came in; me with a nose bleed and a busted lip while supporting you because of your limp." Killian was laughing out loud right now, surely influenced by the amount of rum he'd already consumed but Flynn couldn't help but smile at his friend. It was good to hear him laugh like this, like he used to. And it really was an improvement to his earlier mood. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew though that once the effect of rum would wear off, Killian would be back to his introvert, sad, moody self.

"You know Ros, she probably threatened to cut off his balls if I didn't get back in one piece." Flynn grinned but mentioning Ros seemed to have been a bad idea, because Killian looked forlorn once more, drowned in thought, his hand automatically reaching for the bottle and filling the glass to the brim.

"You're lucky…" he said, bringing the glass to his lips but not yet tasting his salvation. "… to have someone that cares."

* * *

_She loved him. She came back to him. She loved him._

"_I love you." She whispered once more in his ear as they lay in bed, utterly spent. His arms protectively wrapped around her and his head resting on her chest. He would not let her go again. Not ever._

"_How do we go from here?" Killian asked, softly brushing his fingers up and down her side, goose bumps forming on her flesh. "I can't be without you Killian. I tried… god I tried." She sighed, her hand raking through his hair. The love in his bedroom was overwhelming, he would do anything she asked, anything._

"_Take me away from here." She said. He leaned on his elbow to look at her, confused. "What about Bea… " She visibly swallowed. How cruel was her husband that she would chose him, a thief, over her own son._

"_All that matters is you. You and me. Take me away Killian. Let's see the world like you told me, on your brother's boat."_

_He looked at those green eyes, they were pleading. Who was he to refuse this beauty? _

_The next day he told Smee he would quit the job. He was leaving… leaving with her._

"_You don't know what you're getting yourself into Killian."  
"I don't need your advice on this matter Smee. I'm just informing you. By tomorrow we'll be far from here."_

_Smee was beyond pissed, the redness of his face almost an exact replica of that damned cap he was wearing.  
"You're not the first she's sought attention from Killian. Whenever he was out of town she was down at the bar, looking for entertainment. She always went back, what makes you so sure she won't this time?" Smee snapped._

"_**Because she bloody loves me!**" he shouted, silencing Smee's protest._

"_She wants to be with me because she loves me, and I love her. We're leaving tonight, I'll keep in touch. I promise."_

"_You do know her husband is Gold right? He'll never stop until he finds her, until he finds you."  
"We'll be ready for him. Goodbye Smee."_

"_Take care Jones."_

_They left town in the middle of the night and even though they had to be careful as to not reveal their location (they only paid cash and didn't stay long in the same place) they felt the happiest they could be. But they would soon learn once more, happiness is always sweet but fading._

_He was awakened when they barged into their hotel room, Milah screaming as one of them constricted her movement, the other one wrestling with Killian to gain control. With a headbutt Killian's resistance weakened and his attacker – twice his size – made sure he couldn't get out of his hold. Killian was struggling against the hold of the man dressed in black. He knew their attackers now that he got a good look at them. Of course he knew them; he had seen them a few times before, at Smee's office. The Stabbington brothers. _

"_I thought there was honour amongst thieves…" Killian spat as they tightened their hold on him. _

"_Don't be ridiculous Jones, the highest bidder takes all." One of them replied._

"_And indeed I will." A third voice joined them. Milah froze in the arms of her captor and with the look of a doe that got caught in the headlights she looked at Killian. _

_Her husband had arrived. He looked regal, dressed in a dark suit, polished shoes and a cane with a golden head to support his frame. Killian noticed he had a limp._

"_Milah, dearie, the mess you have gotten yourself into…" he addressed her and reached with his hand to touch her cheek._

"_Don't you dare touch her!" Killian yelled, trying to free himself but when it came to brute force, the Stabbington brothers would always win. Gold turned to Killian, a grin appeared on his lips, revealing a large amount of teeth. A smiling crocodile, what a gruesome sight to behold._

"_Ah yes Mr. Jones. I never really knew your occupation as a thief was so liberally applied to stealing humans."  
"It's not stealing when she came willingly." He spat. Which earned him a good knock in the head with Gold's cane._

"_Robert don't." Milah said, her eyes blurring but Gold ignored her.  
"You know, when one caught a thief in the old days, said thief would lose a finger…" Gold's voice went cold as he looked Killian in the eyes. Killian found his soul freezing. For the first time in his life, he was utterly scared. _

"_Mr. Stabbington, if you don't mind." Gold said and nodded to Killian's left arm._

"_No. Robert don't! I beg of you Robert!" Milah was screaming now as Killian struggled against the deathgrip on his arm. Gold turned the golden head from his cane until it clicked, a rapier slid out of the mahogany sheath and before Milah could scream at her husband once again, Killian's cry of anguish filled the motelroom. He cradled his left arm and crashed to the ground, pain clouding his vision, his severed hand laying in a pool of blood only a inches away from him. Milah forced herself out of Stabbington's grasp, ready to fall next to Killian, whisper it would be okay, she would get him help. But Gold stepped in her way and grabbed her by the arm._

"_Don't you think this adventure has gone on long enough, dearie? Now come back home, Bea's been asking about you."_

_Milah slapped him with her free hand, it stung like crazy but it gave her a strange satisfaction. _

"_You just don't get it do you? I don't love you. I will never love you, now unhand me… you coward."_

_Killian looked up, tears streaming down his face from the pain, he needed to protect Milah. His vision was getting blurry, he would be unconscious soon, but he had to save Milah._

_Gold's eyes flashed in rage and in that overwhelming feeling of anger he brought up the rapier and thrusted it in Milah's chest. Her eyes widened, her mouth opened to scream but nothing came out and then she slumped to the floor._

"_MILAH!" Killian screamed and dragged his body to meet hers. "Milah."_

"_I … love you." She whispered , blood filling her mouth and he saw the light go out in her eyes._

_Gold took a few moments to recollect himself, watching the pitiful scene enfold in front of him. _

"_Boys, it's best we take our leave." Gold said and was ready to turn toward the door when Killian grabbed his ankle with his right hand. Black spots were clouding his vision, he would be out before they left._

"_I will find you and I will kill you for what you did today. I **will** avenge her." _

"_Well good luck making it out alive first."_

* * *

"Jones."

Killian looked to his side to find Smee standing next to him. He shot Flynn an accusing glare.

"Did the babysitter call you?"  
"Actually no, I was meeting a prospect here. You seem to have had some fun." He said, nodding to the now nearly empty bottle of rum.

"I needed to forget." He said, his speech completely slurred. Smee dared to glance at Flynn who shook his head.  
"Did it work?" Smee asked, knowing well by now that if Killian actually admitted to needing his oblivion, it had not been a good day and he was far from sober. "You need to find him."Killian said. Smee's eyes widened. "sorry?"

"He took my love. My happiness." Killian turned to look him straight in the eyes. His bright blues bloodshot and brimming with tears.

"Find him, so I can take his."


End file.
